


Whispers of a Madness

by thatcuriousgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Stiles Stilinski, Derek Comes Back, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Stiles Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcuriousgirl/pseuds/thatcuriousgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of demons and wasps and warm blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers of a Madness

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a single line I couldn't stop myself from expanding on and a lot of Nine Inch Nails.  
> I apologize for the awkward formatting and obsessive use of italics. I couldn't stop myself.

There is a demon in this body. It sits and it growls and it claws and it bites. It waits. It watches. There is a demon in this body that won’t be silent. No matter what is done, no matter the method, it whispers with every moment of every day the horrors it wishes to invoke. Stiles waits with it. He sits and he growls and he claws and he bites. He moves through the days, a ghost wandering the halls alone and afraid. Stiles, he watches from afar. His body is a cage. His mind is a haven.

It has been happening for some time. He noticed it bit by aching bit. A word would slip out where he had never intended. Sitting in class, he’d find his nails digging sharply into his flesh, painting his pale skin a brutal red.   
He wouldn't stop himself. 

  
The nightmares began to flood in at night.   
  
_The buzz buzz buzz of thousands of angry insects tapping madly against his window. A flash of red. The window breaks. In pour the wasps. He does not move from his bed. He doesn't do anything at all. The swarm surrounds him on his bed. They sting him again and again and again. He does not move._   
  
He wakes up in a mess of sweat and the now constant smell of metallic. He claws at his skin.   
He does not move.   
  
Some nights, he wakes up in a place he does not know. He has woken up in an alley, the stench of piss and old beer tearing through the air. His feet are bloody. His hands are shaking. He silently walks home.   
  
_Those nights he dreams of bright red eyes slowly fading into the darkness. He dreams of chasing after them. Tripping and falling and scraping his knees, tearing up his feet. Stiles runs after them and they keep looking at him as they leave him in the cold._  
  
 _He dreams of black ooze pouring out of his mouth, covering his front, sliding down his arms._   
  
  
Some nights, he wakes up in Derek’s old loft, back pressed against the cold metal wall.   
  
_He dreams of screaming, but where sound should escape, wasps swarm out instead. Stinging his throat as they tear through his insides._   
  
  
Every time he thinks about telling Scott, or Lydia, or even Allison, the whisper turns into a roar. YOU ARE NOTHING, it would say. THEY WON’T CARE. DON’T WASTE YOUR BREATHE.   
Stiles would listen.   
  
  
_Red eyes bleed into a warm blue and he screams for them to ‘come back, come back, please oh god, come back’ but they never do. He hears the buzzing coming from somewhere behind him. He runs. He runs and runs and falls and gets up to run some more. Always screaming for the sanctuary of those azure eyes. ‘I can’t get away by myself. Please, please, please…’ The buzzing gets louder. He feels the first sharp sting against his back. He cries into the darkness._   
  
When he wakes, the window is pushed open. Cold air pours over him. Bright, azure eyes shine through the black of the room.   
Stiles feels the bed shift and warm arms wrap around him. He gasps. The roar returns, louder than ever. NO NO NO. HE’LL LEAVE AGAIN. HE WILL. HE WILL.   
  
Stiles turns towards the embrace and cries into the warmth.   
  
_He dreams of wasps tapping furiously at the window. He dreams of Derek building a wall of brick and mortar against the flood of angry devils. And then, finally, he dreams of safety, warm arms, and azure eyes. He does not move._


End file.
